


Last Goodbyes

by linndechir



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Gen, M/M, Pre-Canon, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-27
Updated: 2013-04-27
Packaged: 2017-12-09 15:28:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/775795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linndechir/pseuds/linndechir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Robert gives Storm's End to Renly, Stannis leaves his home with a heavy heart. Davos makes sure he doesn't have to do it alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Goodbyes

The steep stairs up to the drum tower of Storm's End always made Davos feel ten years older than he was, and he didn't envy the guard who was leading him his heavy armour. Whoever had built this castle had either enjoyed the exercise or liked his guests to be a little out of breath by the time they arrived. Knowing Lord Stannis, he probably appreciated both.

They found Stannis standing by a large window that faced out over the ocean. It had been left wide open so the cool sea wind whipped into the room, where it had torn a few papers from the large desk. Stannis didn't seem to mind, if he had noticed at all. It was the same room he had spent most of the siege in, his father's old study, from what Davos had heard. Lord Robert had never used it, so Stannis had claimed it for himself back when Robert had left for the Eyrie. It looked more luxurious than what Stannis would have chosen for himself, but Davos supposed that he hadn't wanted to change anything about his father's rooms.

“My lord, Ser Davos Seaworth is here,” the guard said, and he was one of the first who didn't sound mocking when referring to a smuggler as a _ser_. Looking closer, Davos thought he recognised the man – he had been at Storm's End during the siege. Davos had saved his life, as odd as it still was to think of himself as the saviour of an entire castle.

“Good.” Stannis' voice sounded even harsher than usual. “Leave us."

The guard left without another word, and Davos stepped slowly closer. Stannis seemed to be in a particularly foul mood, even by his standards. Davos hadn't seen him since King Robert's coronation over two weeks ago, after which Stannis had sent him off to bring his family to Cape Wrath and help them settle in. It was a small castle compared to Storm's End or the Red Keep, but to Davos' – and his family's – eyes it was overwhelming. He could still hardly believe that it belonged to him, Davos from Flea Bottom, who had always been sure his life would end either in a noose or on the Wall. 

A few days ago he had received a raven from Stannis, ordering him to meet him at Storm's End. Davos had been surprised that Stannis had left the capital and his brother's side, but maybe he was to hold Storm's End again for King Robert, who would be busy in King's Landing from now on. Davos had no idea how such matters were handled. Until recently he had been proud to call a tiny house in King's Landing his own, proud to give his family a roof over their heads – he had never wasted a single thought on how lords handled their grand possessions, on the written and unwritten rules of how castles and lands were distributed and governed.

Davos came to stand next to Stannis and frowned against the cold wind. He resisted the urge to ask Stannis if he could close the window, when the evenings were getting colder and colder with every passing day.

“Lord Stannis,” he said simply. He still did not know what the appropriate behaviour was when a lord called one of his knights for a private meeting, whether he was supposed to bow or thank him or say some courteous phrase that would never even occur to him, but fortunately, as he had learnt over the last months, Stannis did not care one bit for decorum and empty gestures of respect.

“Lord,” Stannis echoed and scoffed. He didn't sound happy. “I actually _am_ a lord now.”

He had corrected Davos once, during the siege, when he mentioned over a bowl of watery onion soup that he was tired of people calling him Lord Stannis when he wasn't lord of anything, that he only held the castle in his brother's name. _Ser Stannis_ would be the appropriate title, but he had given up on lecturing starving men about formalities. Davos hadn't given the comment much thought at the time and simply continued to call him Lord Stannis as well. Despite his broad shoulders and his still muscular build, even after months of starving, Stannis had not looked like Davos imagined a knight. He looked like a lord.

“Congratulations,” he tried carefully, although he had a feeling that was not what Stannis wanted to hear. Unsurprisingly, Stannis glared at him.

“Lord of a worthless rock in the sea.”

Davos frowned in confusion. Stannis loved Storm's End, any man could see that. If he didn't love much else in the world, he loved his home. Davos had seen the almost reverent way in which he touched the stones of the castle, the hint of softness in his eyes when he looked out over the ocean, although it was tinged with sadness right now. Surely he would never call Storm's End a worthless rock.

“I don't understand, m'lord,” he admitted, knowing by now that blunt honesty was the best way to deal with his lord. Stannis gave him a sharp look, and his bitter frown deepened when he realised what Davos must have been thinking.

“Dragonstone,” he clarified. Davos had heard the name a thousand times from Stannis' lips when they had discussed plans to take the island, and usually Stannis had sounded calm and indifferent about the place. Sometimes, when they were talking late into the night, he even seemed somewhat fascinated, and he'd start telling Davos about how Aegon the Conqueror had planned his conquest on Dragonstone. Once Stannis had admitted that he was actually looking forward to seeing the legendary Painted Table with his own eyes. But now he snarled the word as if the sound of it alone offended him. “He gave me Dragonstone.”

Stannis' hand, resting on the frame of the window, curled into a fist, his fingernails dug into the wood.

“He said it was the traditional seat of the king's heir, and I am his heir until Tywin Lannister's daughter gives him a son. Which shouldn't take very long.” Stannis' lips twitched in disapproval, though Davos wasn't sure if it was aimed at the many bastards King Robert had supposedly fathered on whores in all Seven Kingdoms, or at the Lannister queen. Stannis did not seem to like the Lannisters, but truth be told Davos was under the impression that Stannis didn't really like anyone. He called both the Tyrells and the Lannisters spineless opportunists, he disliked the Starks for being closer to Robert's heart than Stannis himself was, and during the conquest of Dragonstone he had made no secret of his disdain for most of the lords and knights around him, who according to Stannis cared more for glory than for efficient warfare. Davos couldn't think of a single positive thing Stannis had ever said about anyone – except about Davos himself, for Stannis was always quick to defend him when other lords tried to banish the smuggler from their war councils or their tables.

“It's a slap in the face, masked as generosity,” Stannis continued. “Robert is good at that. Making it look like he is showering people with gifts when he's pissing in their face.”

The raw hurt in Stannis' voice hit Davos harder than he would have expected. He had respected Stannis from the start, had admired the determination of a 19-year-old boy who would rather starve to death than give up his family's castle, and his respect had only grown while they were planning to conquer Dragonstone – that worthless rock in the sea that Stannis had never wanted to keep after capturing it. Stannis had kept Davos with him during the entire campaign, for the simple reason that Davos knew more about ships than Stannis did, and Stannis appreciated Davos' boldness. So he had spent months by Stannis' side, watching new warships being built, planning and calculating the best way to take the island. He hadn't seen much of the actual battle – Stannis had reminded him that, knight or not, Davos was no warrior and had no place getting himself killed on the battlefield – but he had still come to know Stannis better than, he thought, most other men did. For some reason Stannis liked talking to him. Maybe it was their difference in station, which spared Stannis the courtesies he so hated. Maybe he appreciated how frank, sometimes even insolent Davos was. Maybe he was just more sentimental than people gave him credit for and had grown attached to the man who had saved his life. Whatever the reason, Stannis had not sent Davos away for months, and if anything their time together had only made Davos like him more, not less.

Stannis still had the faint traces of a bruise from the last battle on his cheek, barely more than a sickly yellowish tint under his left eye. It had still been black and blue last time Davos had seen him, but he had a feeling that the hurt in Stannis' voice now would take much longer to fade than this bruise.

“What will happen to Storm's End?” Davos asked finally. After all, there must have been a reason Stannis had called him here, not to Dragonstone. “Does King Robert want to keep it for his own children?”

“I wish he would.” Stannis was grinding his teeth now. It was a bad habit Davos had already noticed during the siege, and it had only worsened in the last months. Just listening to it made Davos' teeth ache in sympathy, but Stannis barely seemed to notice that he was doing it. “That I could accept. I had never hoped to be Lord of Storm's End; that title was always meant for Robert and some day for his son, not for me.” 

Stannis' shoulders slumped, and in that moment he looked like a mere boy, like he felt bad for even dreaming of getting something that belonged by right to his elder brother. He looked too young for sieges and wars and bloody sea battles, too young to be disappointed by those he loved the most, too young to look so bitter and full of helpless rage. His voice cracked when he continued.

“But he has given Storm's End to Renly.”

Just like Stannis used to say 'Dragonstone' with a certain reverence and youthful fascination, there had always been a well-hidden tenderness in his voice when he spoke his little brother's name. During the siege, Stannis had always eaten less so little Renly could eat more, and one sleepless, hungry night he had admitted to Davos that it had been his fear for Renly's life in Mad Aerys' hands, more than his loyalty to Robert, that had pushed him into the rebellion. But now he spat out his brother's name like a rotten fruit.

“What has Renly done to help Robert win this war? He's just a little boy. And he's far too young to rule the Stormlands himself. Robert could have given him Dragonstone, if he just wanted Renly to have a title, but Storm's End? It's our family's home, my father's seat, and Robert gives it to his youngest brother, like some meaningless little holdfast you throw away as a consolation prize.”

Davos had never seen Stannis so angry before. Even when Mace Tyrell had feasted in sight of the castle during the siege, Stannis had only ground his teeth, but right now he looked downright frightening. Davos doubted that Stannis spoke his mind so openly to many people, he who misliked and mistrusted almost everyone he met. It made him a little uncomfortable, but at the same time he appreciated Stannis' trust, appreciated that Stannis had at least the good sense to talk to someone in his life.

His thoughts were interrupted when Stannis suddenly glared at him again, with those dark blue eyes that could stare down just about any man. They always reminded Davos of the sea, deep and dangerous and far wilder underneath their calm surface than a careless man would expect.

“I don't remember cutting out your tongue along with your fingers, smuggler. You've barely said a word since you arrived.”

Davos shifted from one foot to the other, not quite sure what to say. The old him, the poor smuggler he had been not too long ago, thought that getting a castle, any castle, was a royal reward that no man had any right to complain about, but after months by Stannis' side he could see things through his eyes. He knew how much Stannis loved Storm's End, how much he had suffered to defend it. Giving it to Renly when no one deserved it more than Stannis was probably the worst thing Robert could have done to him.

"Have you spoken to the king? Maybe you could explain it to him, ask him to change his mind," Davos suggested. Stannis' lips curled in disdain.

"I did. He told me to stop complaining and be grateful that he gave me anything at all when I failed him so. Me, failed him. I did more for him in this war than anyone else, more than Tywin Lannister or Jon Arryn, more than his precious Ned Stark."

Seeing Stannis' anger was almost physically painful. It was like watching a man eat himself up with rage, bottling it up and letting it burn his insides to ashes. Davos had heard that King Robert had a frightful temper and no self-restraint, and he saw that same rage in Stannis now, except that his lord never truly lost his temper. He kept his anger inside, where it hurt himself more than anyone else.

Stannis had fallen silent, and Davos wondered if he was trying to calm himself down, but his voice sounded no less bitter when he continued.

“I would have been content to serve Robert my entire life, as nothing but a simple knight in his service. I never asked him for a castle, nor even for lands. I would not have blamed him for giving Storm's End to his own son – I had never expected anything else. But giving it to Renly? It's a public humiliation. My punishment for letting Rhaegar's siblings get away. As if I could have stopped it. As if anyone could have stopped it. So instead of simply spurning me, Robert humiliates me and calls it generosity, when everyone can see it for what it is.”

"But men know what you have done, m'lord. They know you held Storm's End for a year and that you took Dragonstone. Surely they respect you, even if you're not Lord of Storm's End." Davos found it hard to believe that anyone wouldn't respect Stannis, who struck him as far more dutiful and just than the other nobles he had met so far.

"Do they? Do you hear anyone talking about Storm's End and Dragonstone? They talk about Tywin Lannister sacking King's Landing. They talk about Robert slaying Rhaegar Targaryen in single combat. They even talk about Ned Stark heroically lifting the siege of Storm's End, as if sending Mace Tyrell running was anything to boast of."

Stannis shook his head in resignation, then closed his eyes against the sea breeze. He looked as if he'd be content to stay right where he was forever. He was not a man who lusted for glory, but he was too proud not to want at least respect and gratitude for what he had done. If not from the whole world, then at least from the man he had done it for.

“You will be closer to Storm's End now than me, ser.”

Davos hesitated, not sure if his words might not make things worse, but with Stannis, he had found, it was always best to speak his mind.

“Could you not stay at Storm's End? You said yourself that Renly is too young to rule the Stormlands. At least while he is still a boy you could hold the castle for him."

“And walk through my father's halls, knowing that they will belong to a little boy who earned them neither through deeds nor through birth? Listen to people call him 'my lord' all day? Wait for the day when he's old and insolent enough to decide he no longer wants a castellan, wait for him to throw me out of my own home because Robert gave him the right to do so? If I am to be thrown out, I would rather have my king show me the door than a spoilt little boy. I would rather leave now of my own accord than wait every day for Renly to decide that he doesn't want me here any more than Robert does.”

His fingers were still clinging to the wooden window-frame. Davos wasn't sure if it was the treacherous evening light, but he thought Stannis' fingertips looked dark, as if his nails were bleeding. He hoped it was just a trick of the light. Davos looked down at his own hand, at the scarred stumps that still throbbed with pain on some days. Sometimes when they stood like this Stannis would touch his hand, curiously as if he couldn't believe that he had done that, and then he'd look regretful before reminding both of them that it had been justice, nothing more. He did not say anything about Davos' marred fingers when he glanced at them that night, but the look in his eyes finally softened.

“I've given orders to find you chambers for the night, Ser Davos." The anger was gone from his voice now, bottled up again, eating at him even when he forced himself not show it. ”I will come with you to Cape Wrath before I return to the capital. I haven't been there since I was a boy, and I want to make sure you have everything I promised you for your services. If the weather allows it, we will leave in the morning. You know best when it is safe to sail through Shipbreaker's Bay.”

 _His parents died in that bay_ , Davos thought. He had heard the story from soldiers after the siege. Their ship had smashed on the rocks, and yet Stannis did not seem to hesitate for a second to put his life in Davos' hands and let a low-born smuggler sail him through the rocks that had killed his parents. Stannis' words sounded like a dismissal, so Davos nodded and bowed slightly – he had seen other knights do that when taking their leave from lords, although he felt awkward doing it himself – before he turned away.

Stannis' gaze returned to the sea, and Davos wondered how many days he had spent standing here since he had arrived from King's Landing, taking in a sight that would never be his again. He realised only then that Stannis had been waiting for him, that he had called him here for no other reason than because he apparently didn't want to leave alone. It was the kind of thing a man would ask of a friend. Stannis probably hadn't thought of it that way, not when he had said himself that he had no need for friends, but he didn't have to. Davos knew, and he would gladly be the friend Stannis needed, whether his young lord ever admitted it or not.

Just as he reached the door Stannis' voice stopped him.

“Ser Davos?” Davos glanced back over his shoulder, but Stannis' back was still turned to him, as if he could barely tear himself away from the window. “It is good that you came.”

_I'm glad you came._

He didn't say it, but Davos was slowly getting quite good at hearing the things Stannis really meant underneath his stiff manners and his rough words.

“I will always be glad that I did.” _Both now and during the siege, m'lord._ He hoped Stannis knew that, knew that Davos would never regret helping Storm's End and losing four fingertips and a smuggler's life in return for a castle, a future for his family, and the trust of the man he admired most in the world. But he didn't think this was the right time to remind Stannis of that, not when Stannis had other things to worry about than whether or not Davos was happy with his new life. When his lord didn't reply, Davos left the room quietly to let Stannis say his last goodbyes to the only place where he had ever truly wanted to be.


End file.
